Journal of Beckett Fowl
by Kerowyn6
Summary: When the Fowls go on a skiing trip to Switzerland, Beckett decides to keep a journal. Nothing very exciting planned, just a light-hearted collection of silly stories. And one question from Beckett: what is a balatron?


**Hi! I'm kerowyn6, you can call me Kerowyn, or Kero. The name is from Mercedes Lackey's book By the Sword. Although Mercedes Lackey is not my most favorite author ever, I do enjoy her books, and I **_**love **_**the name Keroywn.**

**I have written two other stories, one of which is another Artemis Fowl fanfic. It's a crossover with Good Omens. Please check it out? **

Journal of Beckett Fowl

Day 1:

Hi. My name's Beckett Fowl. I'm nine. I have two brothers; one of them is my twin. They're both really smart, which annoys me because although I'm not like them, I still get really good grades, but people are always saying things like "Beckett! Honestly! You clearly don't try! Look at Myles! You can do better!" when actually the grades I get are due to the fact that I stay up half the night studying.

I am on vacation in Switzerland and have no clue what day it is, so I am going to number my journal entries instead of date them. Of course, I could ask one of my know-it-all brothers, or my parents, or even my private ski instructor, but then Myles and Artemis would snigger at me, or worse, raise an eyebrow: the sign of utter contempt.

Anyway, whatever the day is, it's sometime in early February.

Words that describe me right now:

Annoyed-with my twin brother Myles, who keeps calling me a simpleton balatron. What is a balatron? I have no idea.

Irritated-with my older brother Artemis who, when I questioned him as to what a balatron was, told me it was a type of banana. I don't think I trust him. Unfortunately, we don't have internet connection, so I can't look it up.

Bored-my ski instructor called in sick, and all the others were taken. In a normal family, this would mean a fun, relaxed day skiing with one's brothers and parents, but not in my family, oh deary me no. Neither of my brothers can so much as turn to avoid imminent collision with a tree, much less go down black slopes.

Triumphant- My idiot brothers decided it would be a great idea to, while I was on the slopes yesterday, redecorate my room. Well, I say redecorate.'Use as a laboratory for unstable experiments' would be more like what actually happened. Let's just say, not all went as planned for Myles.

This is pretty much what occurred.

I was tired. Extremely tired. Do you have any idea how tiring it is to ski down black slopes without poles? Very tiring. I was so thirsty that the thought of food made me nauseous. The three things I wanted were to have a nice glass of water, to take a warm bath, and to crawl into bed with my Sherlock Holmes book. Have I mentioned how much my brothers remind me of Sherlock Holmes with, in some cases, an even bigger ego? A lot. Self-centered geniuses are the bane of my life.

Anyway, upon returning to the chalet after an extremely tiring day of skiing, I smelled something really odd coming from up the stairs. Well, my parents were off trying to figure out if it was possible to snow board with a fake leg, so it had to be one of my brothers. I clambered up the stairs to find, lo and behold, that my room was covered in a slimy gray goop. My two inconsiderate brothers were sitting in the middle of it all, discussing whether it was the sodium chloride that had caused the mess or the liquid hydrogen. Liquid hydrogen! How did they even get a hold of liquid hydrogen in the middle of a ski resort in Switzerland?

Artemis looked up as I came into the room.

"Ah, Beckett. We appear to have... redecorated your room. I do hope you don't mind."

I exploded.

"You hope I don't mind?! You hope I don't mind?! Where am I supposed to sleep, in the middle of this mess of sodium hydrogen and liquid chloride?!"

"Sodium chloride and liquid hydrogen," corrected Artemis.

"Whatever!"

"Yes, I suppose you'll have to clean it up," said Miles haughtily.

"Why should I clean up this mess? Why me? You're the ones who borrowed my room without asking me and exploded some alchemical mixture that smells of squirrel droppings all over the room! What makes you think that I should clean it up?!"

"He's got a point, Miles," Artemis said reluctantly to his younger brother, "He shouldn't have to clean it up."

"No way am I cleaning it up, Artemis! It's not my fault!"

"Then how about he sleeps in your room tonight," retorted Artemis, his eyes sparking.

"What? Why would-" began Miles, but he stopped when he saw his older brother's expression. Don't cross Artemis.

That was one thing that, through experience, had been drilled into us harder than almost any other lesson. Take the time Myles and I decided we wanted to know where it was Artemis disappeared to so often. Myles had concocted a brilliant plan, the details of which I will not mention for they are, frankly, embarrassing. We had followed Artemis all the way to a small farm east of Dublin when Myles told me that the rest of the plan depended on him going on alone. Well, I was annoyed, because he hadn't told me that we would separate, but that's Myles for you, he never tells you everything at the start. So, reluctantly, I agreed. He came back half an hour later, even more pale faced than normal. When I asked him if he found Artemis he said that, yes, unfortunately, he did. I then inquired him as to what Artemis had been doing when Myles found him—he said that he didn't want to talk about it. But I'm pretty sure Artemis said something to Myles that changed everything.

We never followed Artemis again.

So it turns out that instead of lying, cold and wet, in a goop-filled room, I'm righting this in the warm, fuzzy sanctuary of Miles' bed. Maybe I'm not actually as exasperated as I said I was.

And I couldn't help but admire the way Artemis carefully manipulated us to ensure that whatever happened, he wouldn't have to clean up the mess.


End file.
